


Whisper

by EnInkahootz



Category: The Originals (TV), The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Feels, Blow Jobs, Bottom Klaus Mikaelson, Brief moments of suicidal ideation, Brothers, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dreams, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, First Time, Forbidden Love, Hand Jobs, Human Elijah Mikaelson, Human Klaus Mikaelson, Incest, Kissing, M/M, Magic, Porn, Power Bottom Klaus Mikaelson, Prophetic Dreams, Prophetic Visions, Psychic Abilities, References to physical abuse, Romance, Sibling Incest, Top Elijah Mikaelson, Vampires, Witch Klaus Mikaelson, Witches, but they are not vampires yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-27 14:40:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20047705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnInkahootz/pseuds/EnInkahootz
Summary: Unbeknownst to Klaus and Elijah, it is the night before they are to be made into the original vampires.  Klaus experiences a series of prophetic nightmares, followed by a waking vision, about their impending doom.  He goes to Elijah's bed for comfort, which leads to the two brothers having sex for the first time.





	Whisper

It was the night before they were to be murdered and reborn as the very first vampires. But the Mikaelson children didn’t know that.

Klaus bid goodnight to his brothers, to Rebekah, and to Mother. He retired to his bedroom, which was very small, but was his own. He tucked himself into his bed and fell asleep in not too long.

_Knocking over a goblet of overflowing wine, trying and failing to catch it, watching it land heavily on white cloth, watching the spilled wine spreading, spreading, spreading until the cloth is red, catching its scent and knowing with sudden certainty that the wine is laced with blood, so much blood that it is rushing violently from the cloth like a dark ocean wave, coming to swallow Klaus whole, getting closer, closer, closer, and all he can do is wait because there is nowhere to run -_

Klaus woke with a sharp inhale, groping his surroundings to ground himself. He struggled to set the nightmare aside and fall back asleep. It took some time to calm himself, but eventually he drifted off again.

_Sunlight on the bark of a pale tree, the swoosh of Father’s sword slicing through air, the blinding glint of the metal, overlapping cries of pain growing ever distant, everything going cold, everything growing dark -_

This time Klaus awoke with a small yell and his hands clutched to his heart. He didn’t want to go back to sleep, but he made himself.

_A fresh wound gushing a river of blood and Klaus swimming in it, drowning, gasping for air, trying to breathe but finding the air to be blood as well, sucking it into his mouth without meaning to, wanting to spit it out but finding it had already slid down his throat, trying to scream but hearing only a thick gurgle -_

Klaus was crying when he woke up again. He considered staying up, but Father would be livid if he found Klaus behaving outside of the norm. He would take any excuse to beat Klaus, and so Klaus closed his eyes again, blinking away his tears. 

_Running, running in the dark, running so fast the world appears to be in slow motion, running but not running away, not running away but chasing, chasing, chasing someone whose fear Klaus could smell, not wanting to do it but not knowing how to resist, dreading what he would do when he caught his prey, dreading it, yet yearning for it, hating himself and laughing cruelly, hating his laughter but finding himself unable to stop -_

“No,” Klaus sobbed aloud when he woke yet again. He was shaking and when he thought about facing another attempt at slumber, he felt like he wanted to die. Klaus felt like he might die anyway, might die any moment from the depths of his terror. The dreams were too vivid. Klaus had dreamt of the future before and had believed it to be a sign that he had the potential to be a powerful witch, like Mother. But tonight’s nightmares filled him with a sense that a different future was in store for him; a darker future. He decided that he would stay awake, but remain in bed, and pray that Father would not find out.

Affixed to the underside of the table across from Klaus’ bed was a rolled-up scrap of animal skin, two bottles of ink Klaus had mixed from the juices of fruits and ground up flowers, and a paintbrush he had made of horse hair and delicately carved wood. He had to keep such supplies hidden from Father, who had forbidden his art. Klaus gazed longingly at the table, wishing he could spend the rest of the night painting, but he was afraid even to get out of bed, afraid even to cross the small distance, for fear of Father’s rage. The walls of their home were thin, and Father was a light sleeper. Should he wake and come to investigate, should he find Klaus out of bed and making art, a severe punishment would be administered. Klaus wanted to be brave and face risking the beating, but he was shaking too hard from the nightmare to withstand the possibility of more terror. 

Then Klaus thought about the fact that the beatings would come no matter what he did. Even though he was grown now, a man with his own bedroom and, supposedly, his own will, Father’s wrath still controlled his every move. Klaus thought about being trapped in that existence for as long as Father lived, thought about the agony of surviving those years, and Klaus wanted to die again.

He lay on his back and stared at the ceiling, keeping his eyes open wide to ensure he wouldn’t drift off. But it didn’t matter, because soon an image started to form on the ceiling above him, materializing with eerie slowness. Klaus had never had a waking vision before, but he quickly understood what was happening. He tried to stop it, tried to dissolve it with his will, to tell it no, to send it away, he couldn’t take more, he didn’t want to know, _no_, he chanted silently, _no, no_ \- but the scene ignored his pleas. It formed fully and began to play out before him.

_Father was wielding his sword, and Mother was watching with a blank expression, though Klaus knew with unexplained certainty that the ankle-deep puddle she stood in was made of her shed tears. _

_“No, why,” Elijah called, his voice breaking. His hand was clutched to his chest and blood was spilling from behind it. “Leave them alone,” he yelled, then went still and silent._

_“It is for your good,” Mother replied, her voice sounding as though it came from far away and her lips unmoving. “It is for your good,” her words echoed, “for your good, for your good.”_

_The puddle at her feet turned to blood that swelled and spread until it blotted out the scene._

Klaus realized he was hyperventilating and shaking so hard that he heard the posts of his bed knocking against the wall behind it. He prayed Father had not heard the sound. He struggled to calm himself. He tried to think of things that made him happy: the creative thrill of painting, the satisfaction of making carvings out of wood…

But then the vision began again, and when he looked away from the ceiling it appeared on the wall. He closed his eyes tightly and strained to ground himself. He thought of more things that brought him joy and calm: caring for the horses, brushing their long manes, looking into their kind eyes…

But then the vision began again, clear as day despite his closed eyes. He tried to ignore it. He didn’t know what else to do. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. He felt like he was dying. He made himself think back to his list of things that brought him happiness: the affection he received from his siblings, Rebekah’s sweet yet mischievous smile when she’d broken a rule, the protective love in Elijah’s eyes when he looked at him, the sound of his voice speaking Klaus’ name, the feeling of being hugged by him, of being in his arms, safe, if only for a moment…

Klaus needed that. He needed it now and he needed it so badly he was willing to risk Father catching him out of bed. He needed his big brother. He needed Elijah to hold him and tell him it would be alright. He needed Elijah to assure him that, whatever was coming, they would stop it together. 

He crept out of bed as quietly as he could manage. Elijah’s room was nearby, and he crossed the distance in as few soft steps as possible. He opened and closed the door silently enough that Elijah didn’t wake, but when Klaus reached out to touch his shoulder, Elijah’s eyes shot open before contact was made. 

“Niklaus,” he whispered so softly Klaus had to bring his ear to Elijah’s lips to hear the sound, “what is wrong?”

Suddenly Klaus felt silly to be waking him. He was not some small child who needed comforting after a nightmare. He shook his head.

“Nothing,” he whispered in Elijah’s ear, “sorry to have woken you.” He turned away, intending to return to his own bedroom despite his suffocating dread, but Elijah caught his wrist.

“Niklaus,” he whispered commandingly, “tell me what is wrong.” He moved over in his small bed, creating space for Klaus to get in beside him, just as they had done as children. Though they were adults now, the physical nearness was required for a conversation taking place when they were meant to be asleep. Father had excellent hearing and no tolerance for rule breaking. Their words would need to be whispered softly into each other’s ears, just as they had done as children. Klaus climbed into the bed, settling his body beneath the blanket. The sensation of his brother’s nearness, the warmth and the particular scent, calmed Klaus somewhat, and he felt his racing heart slow just a little.

“I had nightmares,” he whispered, “terrible, vivid nightmares, and,” he trailed off, hesitant to reveal further psychic powers, even to Elijah. Father had declared that Klaus had no magic, that someone like him could never wield such power. When Klaus had displayed prophetic dreams before, Father had accused him of deceit and punished him severely. Father’s word was to be taken as fact, but after each nightmare came true, Elijah had discreetly told Klaus he believed him, that he knew it was no trick. 

Klaus struggled to disclose to Elijah what terrors the night had brought. He knew he could trust Elijah, yet his fear of Father’s punishments was sewn into his being and it was no easy task to look past it. 

“And,” Klaus began again, voice shaking, “I also had a waking vision and I think something very bad is going to happen.”

He pulled back from Elijah’s ear and looked at his face. There was no disbelief, nor explicit fear; the wall was up. Elijah wrapped his arm around Klaus and pulled his head onto his chest, hugging him close and rubbing his back, just as he had done when they were children and Klaus needed comfort.

“Say you believe me,” Klaus pleaded against Elijah’s bare chest, unsure if his soft words could be heard.

“Of course I believe you, Niklaus,” Elijah whispered back, “tomorrow we shall go to Mother and tell her all about your nightmares and vision. We will tell her when Father is away hunting and she will believe us. She will know what to do, how to stop whatever you have foreseen.”

“Thank you,” Klaus replied, repressing a sudden sob of relief, “thank you, brother.” 

Klaus thought of Mother’s role in the vision, and a flash of dark doubt passed over him as he wondered if Mother would ever hurt them. There was no question as to Father’s capability to harm his children, particularly Klaus, but Mother had always been so kind to them. Yet in the vision she seemed to be watching the violence, not stopping it. Klaus thought of what she said: _“it is for your good.”_ The words sent an ominous chill throughout Klaus’ being, but he pushed away the thought that Mother could not be trusted. He couldn’t bear to think he had no parents who believed in him, no parents he could believe in.

“You are shaking, brother,” Elijah whispered, and Klaus felt Elijah’s arms tighten around him. Klaus huddled close and listened to his brother’s heart beating. It soothed him a little. Elijah stroked Klaus’ hair, just as he had when they were children, and that soothed Klaus a bit further. 

But then Klaus thought of Elijah in the vision - the vacancy taking over his face, the lifelessness - and he clutched to Elijah suddenly and desperately. He tried to talk himself out of the idea that Elijah had died in the vision; perhaps he had simply gone still and silent from his emotional distress, or maybe he had fallen unconscious, injured but not seriously hurt. He would wake up soon, that part just hadn’t been included in the vision. _He would wake up_, Klaus chanted silently, _he would wake up, he would wake up…_

“Shh, shh,” Elijah comforted him, and he rocked their bodies gently. “Do not worry, Niklaus,” he whispered into Klaus’ ear, “I am here, and everything shall be well.”

Klaus wanted to believe him that everything would be alright, but his dread still gripped him. He pressed his face into Elijah’s chest, taking comfort in his scent. He struggled to calm himself but when he looked at his hand, he saw it was still shaking. He felt ashamed of his emotional weakness. He thought he ought to get up and go to his own bed and calm down on his own because he was not a child. 

But he and Elijah sometimes fell into their childhood dynamic - Elijah’s protective love of his little brother, Klaus’ admiration of his big brother, and the way Klaus always went to him after Father’s beatings. Elijah would take him to Mother, and after she had used her magic to heal whatever needed healing, Elijah would take Klaus into his arms and let him cry. It was still that way today, despite their adulthood, but Klaus felt a little less ashamed about crying in Elijah’s arms after having been physically beaten than he did about blubbering over bad dreams.

“I should go back to bed,” he tried to say, but it came out as a sob. 

“Shh, shh,” Elijah soothed him as he hugged Klaus to his chest, “you can sleep here for a little.”

“Father will find out when the morning comes,” Klaus replied, feeling his disappointment with great heaviness. They had slept together as children, and though Father had told them as teenagers that they had grown too old to share a bed, the craving to sleep in Elijah’s arms never truly left Klaus.

“I will wake us up early,” Elijah assured him, “I always wake before dawn, there will be time for you to go back to your room before he rises.”

Klaus felt like staying in Elijah’s embrace was utterly worth taking the suggested risk. He would sleep here for a few hours, then go to his bed till the family awoke, and as soon as Father left to hunt, they would tell Mother about everything and she would make it alright.

Still, Klaus couldn’t stop crying. He could still see the vision if he let himself. It was hovering in the back of his mind. He tried to ignore it, to push it down. He bit his lip to stifle the sounds of his weeping; he was practiced at that, yet this time his sorrow was overflowing beyond his control and he was heaving and wailing.

“Shh, shh,” Elijah hushed him, this time with urgency, “Niklaus, we mustn’t wake Father.”

Klaus tried to quiet himself, but his sobs only got louder as he struggled for breath. 

“Niklaus, Niklaus,” Elijah whispered worriedly, “hush, everything is alright, hush, you must hush.” He rubbed Klaus’ back in what was clearly meant to be a comforting gesture, but anxiety was evident in his touch.

Klaus looked at Elijah’s face, hoping to be soothed by the sight, desperately wanting to believe that everything was alright, desperately wanting to cease his weeping, but finding himself unable to do either. He felt hopeless, helpless, utterly defeated. He stared pleadingly into his big brother’s eyes, not knowing what he was pleading for, but knowing that only Elijah could give it to him. 

And then it happened; Klaus felt Elijah’s lips land on his own, softly silencing him. Klaus thought his instinct should be to pull away immediately, but instead every spec of his being was screaming at him to press closer. He felt as though the tender movements of Elijah’s lips on his drew the pain from him, shared the sorrow, passing it from heart to lips to heart and splitting it between them, easing Klaus’ burden. Klaus shed tears onto Elijah’s cheeks and made softer and softer whimpers against his mouth. 

Elijah’s lips were smooth and strong, and he stroked Klaus’ hair with a loving touch, running his fingers through the pale waves as their mouths met again and again, lips pressing but barely parting. Their bare chests were flush, and Klaus could feel their hearts beating against each other. Elijah’s heartbeat was slower because Klaus’ was still too frantic, but as their sweet kiss went on Klaus found himself increasingly able to steady his racing heart, bringing its rhythm closer to that of his brother’s. In time, Klaus’ heaving chest was calm, and he blinked away the tears that clouded his vision. 

After a final firm press of his lips, Klaus pulled back at last, but only because he wanted to see Elijah’s face, to try and read what this kiss had meant. Had Elijah done it merely to silence Klaus’ sobs, or was something more than brotherly love blossoming between them? 

Klaus didn’t know what to think. He was still processing what had happened, tingling and throbbing with emotions and sensations. There was an overwhelming sense of comfort and love and longing. There was something inside himself shouting that being with Elijah mattered more than anything, was the answer to everything, that it always had been, and that he was only just now understanding what he should have seen all along. 

But there was also guilt and shame and self-hatred that threatened to devour him. Things like this were forbidden between men, and especially between brothers. Klaus had been with men before, in secret, and in shame. Klaus thought about how much more shameful it was to be doing such things with his own brother. What did it mean that Klaus wanted it so badly? What was wrong with him? What would Father do if he found out? Klaus decided it was very important that he go back to his own bed, immediately… only he couldn’t make himself do it.

“I am sorry, Niklaus,” Elijah whispered, suddenly looking like he was going to cry himself, “I, I just wanted to soothe you, I feared that your cries would wake Father, but, but I should not have, I did not mean to take advantage of you, I did not mean for it to, I mean, I, I am sorry, brother, forgive me, please.”

Klaus didn’t know what to say, he only knew that he wanted Elijah to feel better. He leaned back in and initiated a new kiss. Elijah made a muffled sound of surprise, then cradled the back of Klaus’ head and returned his kiss with a passionate, open mouth. Klaus wanted to slip his tongue between Elijah’s invitingly parted lips, but he wasn’t sure where, if at all, a line should be drawn. If they kissed with only their lips, perhaps it could still be considered brotherly love, familial comfort. If he slid his tongue into his brother’s mouth, perhaps there would be no going back.

He did it anyway, taking the step before he had time to contemplate it any further, unable, or perhaps merely unwilling, to resist his building desire. He needed to be closer. He needed the comfort, he needed the love, to receive it and to give it. He needed Elijah to know how he was feeling, to know what he meant to him. With a soft sound, Klaus dipped the tip of his tongue past Elijah’s lips and grazed it against Elijah’s tongue. 

Elijah froze, but only for an instant. Then he clutched Klaus’ body close and deepened the kiss, and all at once their mouths were locked in desperate fervor, their tongues massaging each other and their lungs breathing each other’s air. Klaus let his shame fall away and melted into the embrace, and they kissed hard until they were both panting. Klaus bent his head to kiss Elijah’s neck over and again. Elijah’s skin felt silky beneath Klaus’ lips, and its usually comforting scent now thrilled him, flooding his body with desire and his mind with blinding love.

“Niklaus,” Elijah whispered, his voice edged with fear and guilt, “what are we doing?”

“Just loving each other, brother,” Klaus whispered in his ear. In a way, it was the simplest thing in the world.

Klaus shifted his body and began to cover Elijah’s chest in soft kisses and brushes of his lips. He lapped at Elijah’s nipples and drew circles around them with the tip of his tongue. Elijah placed his hand lovingly on Klaus’ head, which soon ventured beneath the blanket so that Klaus could kiss over Elijah’s stomach. He moved his mouth across every inch of skin, traveling gradually lower. His yearning to reach the waistband of Elijah’s pants was desperate and aching, but he could feel Elijah’s anxiety over their union, and he didn’t want to go too fast.

Ultimately though, he arrived at the barrier of cloth. If there was still any chance to turn back it was now, but Klaus had no desire to stop, whether or not it was wrong. He slipped his hand beneath the fabric. He found his brother’s hard cock, and he wrapped his fingers around it. Elijah gasped and Klaus withdrew his hand, unsure whether or not it was a sound of objection.

“No,” Elijah whispered, “brother, please do not stop.”

Klaus made a deep sigh of relief and took Elijah’s erection back into his hand. He planted kisses on Elijah’s hip as he stroked him with a slow, light grip. Elijah was breathing heavily and struggling to wriggle out of his partially removed pants. Klaus paused to help; he pushed the blanket to the foot of the bed, then stripped Elijah and tossed his pants aside. 

For a long moment Klaus stared, entranced as he observed Elijah’s nude form in the dim light. Then he regained focus and wrapped his hand around the base of Elijah’s hardness. He brought his lips to the tip, unable to resist, needing to have it in his mouth. He held it still with his hand and swirled his tongue around the head for as long as he could stand to wait. Finally, he spread his lips. He lowered his mouth onto Elijah’s cock, relishing the feeling of its firmness against his tongue, against his cheeks. He relaxed the muscles of his throat and shoved his mouth down fully, taking the entirety of Elijah’s hardness and swallowing around the tip. 

Elijah’s breath had grown exceedingly desperate and shallow, so Klaus held still, giving him a moment to adjust to the feeling of Klaus’ warm mouth and tight throat. Once Elijah had calmed enough to breathe almost normally, Klaus began to move. He raised his head and lowered it, slowly to start, but it was only moments before he was rushing on and off, his mouth moving with a passion that overrode everything else, his lips and tongue and throat working almost of their own will, needing to pleasure Elijah, needing it more than anything else.

When Elijah grabbed his head and began to thrust gently into his mouth, his shaft throbbing eagerly against Klaus’ tongue, Klaus broke free and sat up. Elijah made a soft, sad sound, looking heartbroken. Klaus rushed to shed his own pants, then kissed Elijah with sweet urgency as he straddled his hips. He gripped Elijah’s cock and worked himself onto it, taking it inside his ass without delay, without permitting himself to consider that yet another line was being crossed, and the two brothers’ bodies merged, the moans of their union muffled by each other’s mouths.

“Niklaus,” Elijah whispered harshly when their lips parted, “is this, should we be, Niklaus, do you think, is it wro -”

Klaus crushed Elijah’s lips with his own, silencing the word _wrong_, banishing it. It had become clear to Klaus that it wasn’t wrong. It couldn’t feel this way and be wrong. It was love, and love was a force of good; it was as simple as that. He tried to communicate that sentiment with his kiss, with his touch. Elijah kissed him back with rich affection and profoundly tender movements laced with forceful yearning, and Klaus thought perhaps he had understood. 

“You feel,” Elijah moaned quietly, “beyond words.” He wrapped his arms around Klaus’ back and held him tightly for a long, still moment. Klaus planted soft kisses up and down the side of his neck. When Elijah released Klaus from his embrace, Klaus sat up on his cock with a soft sigh.

“I can find no words for you, either, dear brother,” Klaus murmured. He began to raise and lower his pelvis, and Elijah covered his own mouth to muffle his sounds of pleasure. “But it is alright,” Klaus assured him as he slowly rode his cock, “we do not need words to understand one another, now that we have this.” He laid his hand on Elijah’s chest and stared blazingly into his eyes. “This touch.”

Elijah’s hand fell away from his mouth and he nodded with wide, loving eyes. Klaus felt a warmth spreading inside himself, a joy like no other. He felt, at last, like everything was going to be alright. He felt himself smile and Elijah smiled in reply, his expression displaying the same devotion and elation that Klaus was feeling. 

Klaus began to bounce faster on Elijah’s hardness, relishing the sensation of it moving inside himself, filling him again and again with the lust and love that blurred their bodies together, blurred their souls together. They were both panting, biting their own fists whenever sounds of pleasure threatened to escape their lips. They could not risk being heard. They could not risk Father’s wrath. Klaus wished he could scream his brother’s name over and over just as loudly as he pleased, and it made his heart ache a little that he couldn’t.

His eyes had fallen closed and his head had dropped back, so Klaus didn’t see Elijah reach for his untouched, throbbing erection. He gasped when he felt Elijah’s fingers wrap around it and snapped his head forward to gaze into Elijah’s eyes. Elijah stared back at him as he began to glide his fist up and down, jerking Klaus with a slow, gentle grasp. Klaus thrust into his hand with a heavy breath and Elijah tightened his grip and began to pump Klaus’ cock with increasing speed. They synced their movements so that Klaus was riding Elijah’s hardness in rhythm to the motions of Elijah’s hand.

Elijah’s free hand stroked Klaus’ skin wherever it could reach. His touch felt soothingly firm though the caress itself was light. Wherever their skin met there was electricity, but there was also something deeply grounding. Klaus took up Elijah’s hand and kissed it, pressing his lips to Elijah’s knuckles for a long, tender moment. He leaned forward, crushing his own cock between their bodies and kissing Elijah’s mouth with rapidly rising arousal. 

“Niklaus,” Elijah whispered in his ear when the kiss broke, and Klaus gave a small shiver.

“Elijah, Elijah, I love you,” Klaus murmured desperately into his ear, then orgasmed suddenly, spilling over Elijah’s hand, his wet leaking onto their pressed together stomachs as ripples of lingering ecstasy made Klaus quiver. He felt the muscles inside his ass clenching tightly around Elijah’s cock, then felt Elijah’s hardness begin to pulse inside him.

“I love you, Niklaus,” Elijah whispered back as he gripped Klaus’ hips, holding him still. Elijah jerked his own hips hard, pushing himself upward, shoving and holding his cock deep inside Klaus’ ass and shooting his seed into him with a long shudder and a partially stifled moan against Klaus’ ear. 

Elijah wrapped his arms around Klaus’ back and they kissed gently as their cocks softened. After a time, Klaus gingerly removed Elijah’s cock from his ass, climbed off of him and settled snugly beside him. Elijah pulled the blanket over their nude bodies. Klaus buried his face in the bend between Elijah’s neck and shoulder, inhaling the scent that now meant everything to him; it was comfort and it was excitement, but above all else it was safety. No matter what was coming, it would be alright because, together, they could withstand anything. Klaus huddled close to his big brother, and his heart was so happy that a tear of joy slid from his eye and landed softly on Elijah’s neck.


End file.
